


Twice Told

by LilacsandFreedom



Series: Emet/WoL Week 2020 [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, F/M, Melancholy, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal Spoilers, Theatre, Tragedy, Wishful Thinking, brief cheeky references to More's Utopia, but I'll give it my best shot, good lord I do not know how to tag this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26504650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilacsandFreedom/pseuds/LilacsandFreedom
Summary: The Prima Vista hosts a special production of a mysterious, anonymous work. While the play is curious to the host of Garlemald, its contents are anything but to the emperor, who is of two minds as his tale unfolds before him.
Relationships: Azem/Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch
Series: Emet/WoL Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921468
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Twice Told

The  _ Prima Vista  _ hosted many productions. Most were written by those among the company already, so it was unprecedented that the night’s performance was of a work provided by an anonymous author. Anonymous in every way, the people said, how strange! How novel! So the host of Garlemald did pack the theatre on the night of this most mysterious play. Even the emperor himself, his radiance Solus Zos Galvus, did attend in his private box, watching with the great solemnity that often haunted his features.

(And he’s gotten older, the people thought, older now, since the prince...ah, but it’s not our place to think of such things.)

They announced the production as they always did. A prelude on the curious circumstances with which the script was found and copied. They searched all through the empire and could find no trace, none at all! But, the company found it to be moving in ways they could not quite describe, and so they did all they could to do it justice. In the shadows of the darkened theater, Emet-Selch smirked to himself. It was always satisfying when a plan came together. And he felt rather proud of this one in spite of the nagging briar growing in the back of his mind. His other pieces were still quite good, he felt, but this one was, if anything, the most personal.

The troupe announced that it was called  _ Utopia. _

It meant “no place” he knew. For no such place existed anymore.

He thought they were doing rather well, all things considered. He cursed himself a little for not being clearer on how certain lines were delivered, on how each character stood and walked and talked. He remembered everything that had happened in those days, of course, and he thought, perhaps, if he could make them real again for a little while…

He did, in a way. He faded into the memory with ease, and each player slowly shifted in his mind’s eye to those they were meant to portray. It was strange to see himself, of course, but that was overshadowed by the rest. There was Hythlodaeus with his lazy, knowing smile. Lahabrea rambling on as he often did, enthusiasm overflowing. Elidibus...overworking as always, encouraged by Mitron and Loghrif to enjoy the sunshine. And...and Azem, of course, coming home from a long journey. He didn’t even see the actress at that point.

Azem and her easy grace, her steely spirit wrapped in silk. Her long, white hair, gleaming like starlight against the black of her robes, the black of her mask, a sea of stars against the night, and how she used to smile at him before everything fell to pieces. She was and always would be the thorn in his side, plunged deep enough to pierce his heart.

Act One: Hades, Sybil, the Convocation.

Act Two: The Election of Elidibus, the Travels of Azem.

Act Three: The Final Days.

The last of these interested him the most. Because…

He watched the memory play out.

He remembered it well, as he did everything about those days. They had made the plan, their last, desperate plan, and when they told Azem of it, she denied it entirely. Furious as a gale, she raged, her words white-hot for all of them save for those she gave to the central figure. She spoke gently to him, pleading with him to reconsider. When her words fell upon deaf ears, she left. And he realized too late that she meant to  _ leave _ .

Hades ran through the city, the city of people who were afraid, yet held utmost faith in them (in  _ him _ ), they were going to fix everything ( _ he  _ was going to fix everything), everything would be alright. He could feel the storm coming, the electricity in the air prickling at his neck and the aether near-to-choking him. Whenever he looked up, he could see thousands upon thousands of Souls returning to the Underworld, every day more and more and  _ more  _ and there would be even more no matter what they did, but they had to do something, they had to do anything, anything at all to get it to stop.

Finally, he found her, steady as could be, continuing to walk away. The whistle Lahabrea had given her was clutched tightly in her hand. He remembered that too, the horse, that damned, winged horse that he was so, so very proud of,  _ You will soar through the skies with ease and be back to us all the sooner should you ever have the need _ . She would be gone before long, gone, gone, gone, and he needed to do something, anything, anything to get her to stop.

“Sybil!”

She paused and turned to him slowly. “Hades.” she said, cold as ice.

“Come back,” he said. “We need you. Please, I’m asking you to reconsider.”

She scoffed. “I will not. Hades, what you are doing is madness and I cannot take any part of it. I don’t care if I lose my position, that isn’t important right now. I’ve tried and I’ve tried, but none of you will  _ listen  _ to me! Not one of you!”

He approached her. “I hear you, but this is the only way!” he said firmly, “You know that, you know that as well as we all do. We are out of options, this is the only thing we can do to save our people, to save the star itself.”

“I refuse to accept that,” she replied. “I always have. There is always another way, one that does not require such wretched sacrifice.”

And here her anger faded, the sorrow showing through. “He’s a  _ child _ , Hades. Don’t you remember? Little Icarus, always shadowing us at the akadaemia? Such a bright young thing, a prodigy, they said. Wisdom beyond his years, they said. Elidibus. Reconciliation. Innocence. He’s only a boy, can you truly let him do this? Can you?”

“He volunteered. It is the only way. And he will live, in the end. He will live.”

“You can’t believe that.”

“I believe that sacrifices must be made in dire situations. We can’t be selfish right now, we must--”

“ _ Selfish?! _ ”

And here it was that he realized how strong she had grown over the course of her travels. Grasping him by the front of his cloak, she yanked him down to her eye level, their masks clunking against each-other with the closeness. “Don’t speak to me of  _ selfishness,  _ you idiot! I admire the willingness of our people to give their very lives for the sake of others-- such boundless love is beautiful and precious-- but, to consider the wish to preserve life over senseless sacrifice as  _ selfish?  _ I will not hear of it.”

His own temper flared. “Then you’ll doom us all! Your stubbornness will only lead to ruin! We _can’t_ delay, Sybil, the summoning must happen and it will happen whether you’re there or not! But, I _want you to be there_ , do you understand?! We need you. You must guide us when we are without Icarus, you are the one who holds counsel above us all.”

“And yet you won’t listen to it.”

She pushed him away. Looking up to the sky, she removed her hood and her mask. Like starlight, like waves of starlight, and her eyes, when she turned back to him once more, her eyes were clear as crystal. She let the mask clatter to the ground. “I forsake my seat among the convocation.”

“Sybil--”

“I forsake my title.”

“Sybil, please--”

“And I forsake you, Emet-Selch.” she said, her voice low, yet ringing in his mind. “I will not be a player in this act of mad desperation. I will not. I will do everything in my power to find another way, for there must be one. And if I die, I die in the knowledge that we will meet again no matter what happens. So I forsake all that has held me here and wish you farewell.”

And here his memory split.

_ “Fine!” he’d said, “Abandon us if it’s your wish!” _

“Let me go with you!”

_ And she’d said nothing. She walked away in silence, the piercing whistle the only sound in the night, followed by the beating of great red and black wings. _

“What?” she asked.

_ And he’d watched her leave, furious, an unquenchable fire raging in his heart. _

“You’re right.” he said, “You’re right. I cannot lie to you. If you truly believe there is another way, let me join you on your journey. Let me travel with you, let me help you. I too would forsake all I have, if only to retain your faith and your love. And if you believe with all your heart that there is a way to prevent needless death, then I will come with you and remain with you until the end of days.”

_ The summoning had happened seven days later, when all truly began to fall to pieces. They had asked where Azem was. It did not matter, he’d said, for she was no longer party to us. We must continue with the summoning. We must. We must. _

“How fickle you can be…” she said, “So quick to acknowledge the lies you tell yourself, oh angel of truth? How very unlike you. But, I know you don’t lie to me.” She held out her hand. “Come then. If we are together, not even this disaster can stand against us. We will find a way. I promise you.”

_ He’d swallowed his tears for Icarus, dear Icarus, who himself trembled beneath his cloak, but it was all falling to pieces and they needed to do something, anything, and Icarus… _

He took her hand and let his mask fall alongside hers.

_ Things had been different since. He’d felt different, but at the same time he believed he’d always felt like this. Strange, yet familiar. The rest of them felt the same way, he knew. And they knew what had to be done. It was the only way. _

They embraced.

_ Azem never came back _ .

He told her he loved her.

_ They’d abandoned her, forsaken her memory, but in secret he made the record, he couldn’t bear to have her forgotten. _

She told him she loved him.

_ And he’d looked for her everywhere and couldn’t find a trace of her. He’d looked for her everywhere and never found a single shard. _

They ran off together into the unknown, fearless in the knowledge that anything they would face, they would face side-by-side.

And Solus Zos Galvus returned to the theater entirely as the tearful audience applauded and the proud company gave their bows. It was a good show, they thought. Solus still felt proud of his work, but he admitted that when played out on stage, the ending really could have been better. It was difficult to write anything beyond that. Even this felt like a betrayal.

One of his guards felt immensely brave, apparently, because he cleared his throat and said, “Is everything alright, your radiance?”

“Of course it is,” he replied.

“I see…” said the near-suicidal guard, “It’s just...I beg your pardon, your radiance. I’ve forgotten myself.”

He could live for today.

“Take care not to do it again.”

The empress placed her hand over his. He remained still and nodded only out of courtesy.

And later that night, he thanked the company for their work. It was a wonderful performance, as always. I am proud to be your patron. They thanked him for his patronage. But, I ask that you don’t perform it again. They were shocked. Were you not pleased, your radiance? You misunderstand me. Such a performance could never be replicated. That is the truth.

_ And it felt like a betrayal _ .

They obliged in the end, and the people wondered whatever happened to that mysterious play that moved so many, for it vanished from all records not long after. Like a dream, which was all it was in the end. And through it all, Emet-Selch continued his work in the shadows, one day at a time. And through it all, he searched for even a fragment of a familiar Soul, gone, gone, gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Emet/WoL week day 5, "Fight/Heal". Another idea I've been kicking around for a bit, but 5.3 cemented it to me as something I wanted to write.
> 
> I love the little detail in the Ivalice raids about Solus loving the theatre. Not only is it an interestingly humanizing element to his character (especially prior to his full introduction), but it opens up so many delightful opportunities! I might dig into that box of fun again sometime, but for now, I'll leave it at this.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


End file.
